


Three To Get Ready

by marchingjaybird



Category: White Collar
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-19
Updated: 2010-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-06 11:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marchingjaybird/pseuds/marchingjaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal gets in over his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three To Get Ready

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Help Haiti](http://community.livejournal.com/help_haiti/profile) community.

Neal dances with Elizabeth while her husband is upstairs shaving.

It isn't something that he meant to happen. It's a lie to imply that he has never thought about Elizabeth that way; she's a lovely woman, vivacious and intelligent, and in moments of irritation and frustration, he's even thought that she's much too good for Peter. He's in a good mood this morning, though, so when the song comes on the radio, brassy trumpets and the clear mellow ring of a well-played piano, he can't help but to start dancing, feet shuffling across the carpet, one hand pressed to his belly and the other held out to the side as though clasping the hand of an imaginary partner.

He gets through the first few bars of the song, eyes closed, hat cocked down, when his upraised hand is filled with a real one, and he starts a little to find himself staring down into Elizabeth's smiling face. She settles against him easily, urging his arm around her waist, and in spite of his misgivings he pulls her close and leads her in a gentle two-step across the room.

She hums along with the music, eyes sparkling, and Neal considers wistfully that if things were different – if he was a free man, if she weren't Peter's wife, if he weren't so inexplicably fond of Peter – she could be his. Even if it was just for a night…

She rests her head on his chest and he buries his nose in her dark hair and, in a not entirely uncommon flight of fancy, he imagines the end of the song, sweeping her off her feet and carrying her upstairs. He imagines laying her down on the bed and pushing up the hem of her shirt, just enough to nuzzle the soft skin of her belly, to take in the warm scent of her skin. He imagines her fingers in his hair, tugging and teasing, and her voice, low and pregnant with laughter. It's a good fantasy, one of his best, until the part where Peter walks in, at which point it derails completely and causes him to catch his toe on the carpet.

"Careful, there," Elizabeth laughs. Her hand slides down his ribcage. Her eyes flick up, fixing on a point past his shoulder. The hairs on the back of his neck prickle an instant before a heavy hand falls on him. Hard fingers squeeze, and he immediately loosens his grasp on Elizabeth's waist.

"Mind if I cut in?" Peter murmurs. His breath is warm and smells like mouthwash. Neal nods and shifts to the side, only belatedly noticing that Elizabeth has performed the same maneuver. Before he has time to consider what in the world _that_ means, Peter's broad hands move, gripping his waist and spinning him around.

"What's wrong, Neal? Forgot the steps?" Peter's fingers close over his and he arches an eyebrow. From the corner of his eye, Neal sees Elizabeth lean against the wall, arms crossed and a smug, knowing little smile on her face. It all falls together then, pieces fitting neatly together, and he settles himself against Peter with a smug smile of his own.

"Let's see what you've got, G-man," he answers, and this time when his imagination takes flight and he gets to the part where Peter enters the room, the metaphorical train stays right on the tracks.


End file.
